A Different Direction
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: Her own words filled her mind, and she realized that maybe, just maybe, they were no good at saying goodbye because they didn't want to. A different take on Long Way Back.


An alternate take on my favorite episode, Long Way Back, because I wanted even more. More shippiness and angst! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"That's not your Toyota a block away, parked behind some trees?" Michael demanded, his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Sean was about to retort when the glass in the door exploded, and a canister landed on the floor, instantly dispersing gas. Michael, Fiona and Sean looked toward the door in time to see several men in gas masks approaching the house.

Instinctively he reached for his gun, but before he could get a shot off, another gun was fired. He felt the pressure and burning as a bullet entered his back, and against his will, he pitched forward, hitting the wall with a pained grunt before he finally collapsed to the floor.

Another man broke through the glass door and entered the house with an automatic weapon in his hands, and Michael saw Sean get off a few rounds before he hit the floor as well.

Fiona screamed as one of the men grabbed her and lifted her off of the floor. She had seen Michael and Sean fall, and she had to get to them.

"Get the girl. Get the girl outta here now!"

Fiona struggled against the strong arms, screaming Michael's name.

Michael's head lolled to the side, and a man suddenly appeared in his line of vision and pointed the barrel of a gun in his face.

"Do him."

A familiar voice came in loud and clear through the haze. "No. No. He has to live."

The man with the gun was shoved out of the way, and O'Neil hovered over Michael, removing his gas mask.

"You've got some good friends, Westen."

Michael turned away from him and watched helplessly as the man who had grabbed Fiona carried her outside as she screamed his name over and over, begging for help. He called out her name, but his voice was slurred. "Fiona…" The pain was quickly intensifying.

O'Neil slammed his gun against the side of Michael's head, effectively silencing the younger man and rendering him unconscious.

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By the time Sam and Madeline got to the safe house, O'Neil and his men were gone, as well as Fiona. They found Michael and Sean on the floor, and while Madeline checked on Sean, Sam went to his best friend. His gut clenched at the sight of blood pooled underneath Michael. Without thinking, Sam placed his fingers against Michael's neck. His pulse was there, but it was weak. "How is Sean doing, Maddie?"

"I think he's okay. He's breathing, and I can't find a bullet wound." Satisfied that he was in fact okay, Madeline moved across the floor and knelt down beside her son. She saw the blood, and she couldn't contain a soft gasp. "Michael…"

"He's going to be okay, Maddie." Sam carefully cut away his best friend's shirt so that he could see the wound clearly. _Damn it_… "Maddie, I need your help."

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Some time later, while Sam was trying to remove the bullet from Michael's back, Sean awoke and sat upright, calling his sister's name.

"Fiona!"

The memories were flooding his mind, and the last thing he could remember was Fiona being carried out of the safe house by one of O'Neil's men. He was going to rip that bastard apart, limb by limb.

"Good, you're awake. Sorry we had to leave you there, Sean. You weren't shot, and you were breathing steady." Sam growled as he continued to search for the bullet that had entered his best friend's body.

"Where's Fiona?" he demanded, his voice still hoarse.

"I don't know. I got here as fast as I could and found you two unconscious on the floor. Then I called Maddie." He tried entering the wound at a different angle. "Keep the pressure, Maddie."

"I am." Madeline felt sick as her son's blood washed over her trembling hands. She understood why they couldn't take him to a hospital, but she was terrified of losing her little boy.

Sean stumbled to his feet, and pain shot through his skull. He had to find Fiona. He would not lose another sister. He wouldn't.

"Sean, do you…" Sam looked up, and Sean was gone. "Damn it." He looked at Madeline, who wore the same expression.

This was not going to end well.

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By the time that Sean figured out where O'Neil was keeping his sister, he was itching to put a bullet in O'Neil's brain. He called Sam, reluctantly promising to wait until Sam got there to do anything.

But once Sam arrived, he was ready to go. Sam came up with a game plan, which Sean reluctantly agreed to abide by. The older man was convinced it was the only way to get Fiona safely out of O'Neil's limey clutches. They set the plan in motion, and just as Sam predicted, O'Neil came out of the building, dragging Fiona with him and using her as a shield. Blood rushed in Sean's ears, and for several minutes, all they could hear was frantic shouting and gunfire.

Then Fiona managed to free herself from O'Neil, and she flung herself into the water.

Without even hesitating, Sean took out several more of O'Neil's men, then lunged into the water after his sister. He would not lose her. He raced toward the spot where he had seen her go under.

Sam stayed on the shore and watched as a wounded O'Neil and a few of his men escaped by boat. He wanted to go after them, but Fiona was his top priority. His eyes searched the water until Sean broke the surface with Fiona in his arms. As Sean carefully made his way to the shore, Sam put his gun away and rushed to meet him.

Sean gasped and coughed as he carried Fiona toward the shore. She was moving and crying out in pain, so he knew that she was alive. And at the moment, it was all he could ask for.

Finally they reached the shore, and Sam lifted Fiona out of Sean's arms, into his own.

Fiona gasped and moaned. Her arm throbbed, and she kept wondering why Sean had saved her. Michael was dead. She had seen him take the bullet, and O'Neil had glowered as he told her that her little boyfriend had sacrificed his own life for a nothing little bitch.

Vaguely she was surprised when she suddenly found herself in Sam's arms. "Michael," she whimpered.

Sam started toward the Charger, trusting Sean to follow him. "Calm down, sister. Mikey's okay. We're gonna take you to him."

She forced her eyes open, wincing at the harsh sunlight. "What…?"

"I swear, he's okay. He took a bullet to the back, but he's stable. Maddie's taking care of him." He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Sean…?"

"Right here, sis. I'm comin' with ya."

She nodded and allowed her eyes to close again.

They reached the Charger, and Sam carefully laid Fiona in the backseat while Sean slid into the passenger's seat. Then Sam got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Fiona was okay, and so was Mikey. O'Neil was gone. Everything was going to be okay.

He pointed the car in the direction of Madeline's home and stepped on the gas.

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That evening, Madeline, Sam and Sean stood in Madeline's kitchen, talking softly amongst themselves. Fiona and Michael were in the living room. Sam had stitched up Fiona's arm and made her comfortable on the couch, while Sean and Madeline had settled Michael in what looked to Sam to be a hospital bed, complete with an IV pole that was currently delivering antibiotics and painkillers into Michael's system.

They were both going to be okay, and everyone was grateful for that.

"I'm leavin' for Ireland tonight," Sean said quietly. "Wish I could stay, but Fiona is in good han's an' someone needs ta run interference." He rubbed his chin. "Ya know she can never go back now. Not after this."

"We know." Sam struck his hand out to Sean. "Try not to worry too much. We'll take good care of her."

"Ya better."

In the living room, Fiona stirred on the couch. Her arm throbbed, and she knew Michael was close by. Slowly she opened her blue-green eyes, murmuring his name as her vision slowly cleared. She was alive and in Madeline's home. Where was Michael?

Her eyes slowly drifted around the room, until they finally settled on Michael's form. With a soft grunt, she pushed herself upright with her good arm. Then she got to her feet and carefully crossed the floor. "Michael…"

His eyes were closed and his face was pale, but he was breathing steadily. Whoever had put him in the bed had taken care to put him on his side so his injury wouldn't be irritated. He only wore a pair of sweatpants, and Fiona could see a large white bandage that was already stained with blood.

"Oh, Michael…" Leaning over, she lightly brushed her lips against his forehead.

The touch was enough to rouse him, and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking lazily. "Fi…?"

"I'm here, Michael." She ran her fingers lightly through his damp hair. "I'm right here."

He sighed quietly as his eyes fell on her bandaged arm. "You okay…?"

She almost laughed. Leave it to him to be seriously injured and still worried about her. "I'm fine." She showed him her arm. "Just a scratch."

Groaning softly, he patted the empty space beside him.

Without missing a beat, Fiona understood. She almost said no, but a few hours ago, she thought that she'd lost him forever. They both needed the contact, and the reassurance that came with it. So she carefully sat down beside him. Then she stretched out on the narrow bed and snuggled into his chest.

Weakened from blood loss and quickly losing the fight with sleep, Michael draped his arm over her and drew her closer, so that her back was pressed tightly to his chest. As long as she was right there, he could protect her. He would protect her.

He pressed a kiss to her dark hair and sighed as sleep finally enveloped him.

Fiona stayed awake for a few minutes longer, listening to the pattern of Michael's breathing and feeling his heart beat so soundly. He was going to be okay.

_It's okay, Michael. We're no good at this._

Her own words filled her mind, and she realized that maybe, just maybe, they were no good at saying goodbye because they didn't _want_ to. When she had thought that she was going back to Ireland, she had been convinced it was for the best. But she was slowly realizing just how wrong she had been, and it had nothing to do with people wanting her dead.

It was because Michael would be staying in Miami.

No, she couldn't say goodbye to him. She wasn't a needy woman, but she needed him like she needed air to breathe. The past twenty-four hours had proven that to her over and over again. Whatever problems they had, they were nothing compared to the pain of losing him. They would find a way through it, because they always did. Why should it change now?

A soft smile curved her lips when Michael tightened his hold on her and whispered her name in his sleep.

"Fi…"

"I'm here, Michael," she whispered, her own eyelids growing heavy. "I'm not going to leave you again. Ever."

Satisfied with that, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to take her.

A few feet away, Sean and Sam were watching the sleeping couple. Sean really didn't want to leave his sister behind, but if she stepped foot on Irish soil again, it would most likely cost her her life. And she seemed to be genuinely happy in Miami with Michael. Michael would protect her, and Sean would keep their enemies in Ireland at bay.

Stepping forward, Sean kissed his sister's forehead and gently smoothed her hair back.

It seemed to him, she was right where she wanted to be all along.

The End.

A/N: Aww... Gotta love the hurt/comfort. Hope everyone enjoyed this, and please remember to review!


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